


It Will Come Back

by RisingSm0ke



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Basically the crew being one big family of semi dysfunctional criminals, Fake AH Crew, Ryan has a bit of a mental break down, Swearing, mentions of death/murder, ryan centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingSm0ke/pseuds/RisingSm0ke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan "The Vagabond" Haywood has gone so long on his own that the discovery of his own attachment to his new crew is rather... concerning.<br/>A sort of not really song fic (meaning the lyrics serve as line breaks for the story) about Ryan and how he copes with actually caring about someone other than himself for once in the past ten years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Will Come Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ripprisoner](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ripprisoner).



> Lyrics from the song “It Will Come Back” by Hozier. This is my friend's fault, she pointed out how perfect this song was for Fake AH Crew Ryan and I had to write it because she was so god damn right.  
> (Also I would post this on ff.net but I had absolutely no idea what category to put it in sooooo we're not gonna do that I guess.)

 

 _You know better babe, you know better babe,_  
_Than to look at it, look at it like that._  
_You know better babe, you know better babe,_  
_Than to talk to it, talk to it like that._

Any member of the Los Santos criminal underground worth their salt knew who The Vagabond was and how he worked. They knew he was a hit man, and that the skull mask he so infamously wore meant death was sure to follow in his wake. They knew contacting him was tricky business, he never stayed in the same place for long, and that you better be able to afford his services or risk wasting his time- a death sentence for sure.

The LSPD certainly knew of him and of his reputation as well, The Vagabond was quite effective at his job and considered an expert in his line of work. Their actual amount of information on him was extremely limited however. No one had seen his face, his jobs were always clean and quick, and his influence always stronger than any interrogation tactic- _**no one** _ snitched on The Vagabond. Not that anyone could ever have much to say in the first place. Meetings with him were swift and to the point- he arrived, you talked, you paid, he left, and the next day the news was broadcasting about another murder (unless you wanted it kept under wraps, then there was nothing left to find).

Ryan “The Vagabond” Haywood quite enjoyed it this way. He loved the mystery and fear that surrounded his hit man persona, he loved the quiet peace of working alone on his own terms, and most of all he loved killing. It was a very intimate action, killing someone, and Ryan oh so adored making his victims sing their pain and fear in the form of anguished screams. He never claimed to be sane and it worked heavily in his favor. His clients intensely feared the wild and unpredictable air about him and it certainly came in handy, he was untouchable and dangerous in the eyes of the only people that were a potential threat to him. It kept him distanced from everyone and safe from those who could ever possibly try to do him harm.

Ryan relished in the intoxicating power of their unyielding terror.

 

 _Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul_  
_Honey, make this easy._  
_Leave it to the land, this is what it knows_  
_Honey, that's how it sleeps._

  
It was only after years of being in the business of killing and climbing to the top of the criminal food chain that Ryan was approached with a different kind of job offer. He'd heard of Geoff Ramsey, of course he had, after all who hadn't? He was just as infamous, if not more so, than Ryan himself- except Ramsey wasn't quiet about it. The leader of the notorious Fake AH Crew was perhaps one of Los Santos's most well known individuals, practically a celebrity, and so when Ryan got word that The Fake AH Crew were looking to do business, The Vagabond responded.

Upon arriving at the predetermined meeting location, Ryan was instantly aware that this would not be like all the other appointments he'd made with those who had a hit list. There were no guards to lead him to the boss man in charge, for one- just a single expensive vehicle parked outside a run down warehouse in the middle of the day.

Ryan wasn't worried though as he stalked through the building silently, dust particles drifting in the air and catching the stray rays of sunlight that filtered though the filthy high-set windows. He could see Geoff at the far end of the long, barren building from the moment he walked in the door. The other man was sitting at a table, and as Ryan got closer he could see that Ramsey's feet were kicked up onto the flat surface as he leaned his chair back on two legs, taping his fingers on a half-empty bottle of beer.

“Heh-hey! There he is!” Geoff cried with a wide smile, dragging his feet of the table and letting his chair slam back onto all for legs as he stood quickly- looking like he was ready to greet an old friend rather than a deadly hit man he'd never met until that moment. Ryan said nothing and stopped a few paces away from the table, eyeing Geoff warily as he rounded the furniture separating them and offered a friendly hand in greeting.

When Ryan made no move to accept the offered hand, Geoff just shrugged and took a swig of his beer, “Fine fine, just tryin' ta be friendly.” he said casually, deciding to sit on the edge of the table.

“Why am I here.” Ryan demanded coldly, already tiring of Geoff's friendly attitude, more than ready to leave so he could do his job and never speak to the man again. Geoff, for his part, managed to keep the slight smile on his face and seemed completely unperturbed by The Vagabond's sharp tone.

“Wow Gavin was right,” He chirped, still wearing that stupid smile, “You really are a business man huh? Straight to the point then.” Ryan was glad Geoff couldn't see his growing frown behind the skull mask, _damn this man was obnoxious._

Geoff's face grew more serious and he opened his hands in a friendly and non threatening gesture, tilting his head a little to the side, eyes trained sharply on the hit man's before him. Ryan was suddenly struck with the feeling that Geoff was far from the lax and lazy crew leader the media seemed to think he was, there was sly cunning in those blue eyes that was hard to miss this close.

“I want you, Ryan Haywood, to be a member of the Fake AH Crew.” He said easily, as if he'd just announced what his favorite color was or told Ryan the weather forecast. The Vagabond didn't move or respond for a solid minute, half frozen in irritated surprise- _he_ _ **hated**_ _being surprised_ \- and half considering the other man's words. It seemed that the Fake AH Crew's hacker and information collector was good if he'd found Ryan's name, and he'd heard nothing but delightful horror stories of the crew's success so far.

Ramsey simply took another drink of beer and let Ryan think, that same calculated look in his eye making Ryan feel like Geoff already knew what his answer would be.

 _Don't let it in with no intention to keep it_  
_Jesus Christ! Don't be kind to it._  
_Honey don't feed it - it will come back._

 

Pulling into the garage of the penthouse, the door closing behind them as Geoff parked the car, made Ryan's slowly mounting sense of uncertainty stronger. He couldn't really say why he'd accepted the Fake AH Crew's offer, though he had a feeling that it was because the same old routine was getting boring and it was time for something new, but now he was starting to regret it. Motion sensitive lights had flicked on as they pulled in, illuminating the large collection of cars the crew owned, and Ryan begrudgingly tried to remain unimpressed.

Geoff babbled about something unimportant that Ryan only half listened to as the tattooed man lead him to an elevator, punching one of the buttons with more force than necessary. Ryan remained perfectly still as the elevator rose, it felt odd and uncomfortable meeting new people without his mask or face paint. When he'd met Geoff at the pick up location about an hour earlier the crew leader had taken one look at his mask and laughed, wagging a finger while snickering _“Ah-ah-ah Mr. Haywood! The penthouse is safe zone, there will be no hiding from the rest of your team.”_

The soft _'ding'_ of the elevator brought Ryan out of his thoughts. The door opened and Geoff walked swiftly down the hall, leaving the new recruit to follow at a slower pace. Voices could be heard, getting louder with each step, and there was excited shouting as Geoff entered the room- Ryan pausing for a small moment around the corner before hesitantly taking the last step into what appeared to be a living room.

Silence immediately overtook the room as Ryan appeared next to Geoff, the other four occupants turning to look at the hit man with calculated gazes. Geoff smiled and clapped his hands together loudly.

“So! Introductions!” He said cheerfully and gestured to each person as he spoke their name, “Ryan this is the crew; Jack, Ray, Michael, and Gavin.” Jack smiled when her name was called, giving Ryan a friendly wave. Ray gave Ryan one last look before going back to whatever game he was playing on his DS, Michael openly looked the hit man up and down in suspicion, and Gavin got up to flounce over and get a better look.

“Guys, this is Ryan Haywood, better known as The Vagabond. He's a part of the crew now.” Geoff finished, a smug smile quirking his mustache to the side as he surveyed his crew's reactions- like a pet owner introducing a new dog to his pack.

The resident hacker, as Ryan knew Gavin to be, kept Geoff between himself and the newcomer as he appraised the man he'd only seen distant pictures of. “So this is 'im? Lot less scary lookin' than I thought he'd be.” The Brit mumbled unenthusiastically, giving Ryan the stink eye. Ryan raised a single brow but otherwise remained quiet.

Jack was the next one to approach, though she walked up to Ryan directly and held out a delicate hand to shake, still smiling. Ryan briefly glanced a Geoff, noting the man's thoughtful look as he watched, and slowly accepted the woman's greeting. Her grip was vice-like and her smile grew sharp, even as she said with a false warmth, “It's nice to finally meet you Ryan.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Pattillo.” Ryan replied with the same amount of practiced politeness, though he made no effort to keep the cold distance out of his tone. Jack seemed unbothered though and gave him on last smirk before pacing over to the fridge and fishing out a soda.

“So you like, kill people for a living huh.” Michael called from the couch, still wary of having a new person around. Ryan turned his icy gaze to the demolitions expert, eyebrows drawing closer together in slight confusion. _Was he joking?_

“That is what a hit man does, Mr. Jones, yes.”

“How many people ya killed?” Ray piped up, still looking down at his game. “Yeah Haywood, how many people have you killed!” Michael echoed, an odd light in his eye. Ryan had the growing suspicion this was some sort of test and a sharp look in Geoff's direction only made the feeling worse. He didn't like the situation he was currently in, he very obviously wasn't the one in control and Ryan _hated_ not being in control- or at the very least in the loop.

“Oh you know,” He drawled lazily, expertly keeping an inner turmoil from his voice, “I've been in the business for so many years that I've honestly lost count. Let's just say _a lot_ and leave it at that _._ ” He finished smoothly, eyeing Michael challengingly.

The younger man stared a moment longer before cracking a smile and laughing, breaking the spell Ryan's arrival had cast over the room. Ray's shoulders lowered from their tense position and Geoff finally shoved Gavin away from where the boy had been clinging to him like a meat shield, making him squawk indignantly before deciding to make a swipe at Jack's drink- which she expertly held out of reach.

Michael slouched off the couch and clapped Ryan on the arm as he passed, sauntering into the kitchen area that was connected to the living room- though the two spaces were divided by a long counter-top island with bar stools. The hit man's eye twitched at the contact but still he said nothing.

“You're alright Ryan.” Jones said with his head buried in the fridge, “Hey you wanna drink or somethin'?” He called over his shoulder. Ryan hesitated, giving the room and it's occupants one last sweeping look before deciding _'fuck it.'_

“Do you have any Diet Coke?”

  
_You know better babe, you know better babe,_  
_Than to smile at me, smile at me like that_  
_You know better babe, you know better babe!_  
_Than to hold me just, hold me just like that._

“Holy shit Ryan!” Michael yelled, twisting his torso in order to get a good look at the aftermath of the explosion behind them. Ryan laughed wildly, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he pushed the motorcycle even faster. The bike's engine roared, nearly drowning out the sounds of sirens and the voices of the rest of the crew in their earpieces, and all Michael could do was keep a tight hold on Ryan as the hit man rocketed around street corners and weaved through traffic.

The crazed smile never left Ryan's face, hidden behind his mask, even when he pulled up to the safe house and cut his bikes engine with a rumble. Michael stumbled out of his seat and leaned over to dramatically collapse on the sidewalk, groaning and wailing “oh my god solid ground how I missed you!”

Ryan snorted, too high on the post-heist energy to be properly annoyed, and sat on the well kept lawn a few feet away from Michael.

“You drive like I maniac dude,” Michael informed him, rolling onto his back- spread eagle- and squinting up at the man next to him. Ryan chuckled inaudibly and removed his mask, schooling the smile off his face as he did so.

“Also,” Michael began matter of factly, “That explosion was fucking rad as shit and I'm kinda jealous you get to take credit for it.” And the kid looked so fucking serious that Ryan actually cracked another smile and a small huff of a laugh, doing his best to keep both hidden but failing without his mask on. Michael's eyes widened and he let out a crow of triumph, slightly startling Ryan with the loud noise, the young man's arms shooting into the air as he yelled.

“Oh my fucking god I made you smile!” He practically screamed, a huge shit eating grin splitting his round face, eyes locked on Ryan like he was looking for another slip in the man's tough no-nonsense exterior- he probably was.

“No you didn't.” Ryan denied with a blank look.

“Yes I did.” Michael replied smugly, sitting up properly and dusting the dirt off his jacket.

“No. You didn't.” Ryan said again, more sternly this time, and though there wasn't any real heat in his tone Michael didn't know him well enough to know that.

Two more cars pulling up to the house prevented Michael from answering, though Ryan could tell another 'yes I did' was on the tip of his tongue, so as Geoff stuck his head out the window and started yelling Ryan gave Michael one last meaningful look. _No you didn't._

“Hey dickheads! What the fuck are you doing sitting on the god damn lawn! You wanna get caught or something? Get in the fucking house and put away your shit!” Geoff was ranting, waving a hand at the parked bike.

“Yeah yeah Geoff, keep your pants on!” Michael snarked back, getting up to help Jack and Ray bring the loot and equipment into the house while Ryan went to move the bike and open the garage for the other two cars.

He idly wondered when this sort of situation had started becoming concerning familiar.

 _I know who I am when I'm alone_  
_I'm something else when I see you_  
_You don't understand, you should never know_  
_How easy you are to need_

The digital clock on the oven read 3:42 am, the green numbers casting a soft light that Ryan found himself staring at. He was seated on one of the bar stools of Geoff's penthouse, hunched over a Diet Coke- he still couldn't bring himself to drink beer- lost in thought.

The heist that previous day hadn't gone nearly as well as the one weeks before it. Sure they got what they came for, but they also got a little extra. Ray was still having trouble opening his right eye, the ocular organ having swollen shut after a cop hit him with a baton that had also split open his cheek. Geoff had actually gotten shot in the leg and now hobbled around the house because he refused to use crutches, and at one point there had been a scare when everyone thought Jack had crashed the get-away car and _died._

Ryan ran his hands over his face and through his hair, anxious energy making him fidgety and keeping him awake. He hated that these idiots had him literally up at night worrying over them. He hated the way his heart had stuttered a beat when Jack yelled over the com and then cut to static after the sound of screeching metal. He hated the rage that sang in his blood when he saw Ray get hit, resulting in a very violent and bloody death for the cop wielding the baton.

He loathed that he had grown to care about the Fake AH Crew. Ryan was so used to working alone, to worrying about only himself and being untethered to another person or place. Yet here he was at nearly four in the god damn morning, unable to sleep because he felt the stupid protective need to be awake in case someone needed something.

What had happened to him? Ryan bitterly wondered, hands clenched in his hair and gaze trying to bore a hole through the soda can on the counter through sheer force of will. What had happened to The Vagabond? People would think he's gone soft, they would mock him surly. How far the high and mighty hit man of Los Santos has fallen-

“Ryan.” Jack's soft voice, thick with sleep, made Ryan jump in his chair. His hands fell to the counter as he looked up at the woman standing in the hallway, wearing baggy pajama pants and an over-sized shirt.

“Jack, why aren't you asleep?” Ryan nearly croaked, clearing his throat at how rough his voice sounded. Jack sighed in a disappointed manner and walked over to lean on the island space opposite of Ryan.

“I got up for some water only to find you lurking in the dark,” She said with an amused quirk to her lips. “What's eating ya, huh?” They stared at each other for a long moment, Jack patiently waiting for the man across from her to speak and Ryan struggling to make a decision. Telling her would only make him sink deeper into this whole “caring” nonsense, but Jack just looked so open and soft that Ryan finally caved- mentally cursing himself all the while.

“Things are very different now,” He started slowly, eyes dropping to his hands that were clenched together into one fist. “I've lived alone for most of my life, unattached. And now I'm very much the opposite of that.”

“So?” Jack questioned, obviously confused and not understanding Ryan's predicament.

“So I can't remember the last time I cared about something before!” Ryan whisper-yelled, looking at the red haired woman across from him in disbelief. Her green eyes cleared, expression previously pinched with uncertainty relaxing now in understanding.

“Ryan,” Oh how he hated (loved, craved, _needed_ ) the familiarity in her voice, the same friendliness the rest of the crew expressed, “Caring about the people close to you isn't a bad thing.” Jack's voice was sad, she watched Ryan grimace at her words and placed a hand over his. “It's not a weakness to want to be with others, you're human- no matter how much time you spend trying to convince Gavin otherwise.”

Gently pulling his hands out from under Jack's and letting them rest in his lap instead, Ryan scoffed a little in objection. His shoulders drooped, normally excellent posture caving in on itself as if there was a great weight he was holding up. When he said no more Jack finally straightened up and got her glass of water, looking back only once on her way back to bed to mutter a soft “good night” that Ryan only distantly echoed- manners running on auto pilot even though he was lost in thought once more.

 

 _Don't let me in with with no intention to keep me_  
_Jesus Christ! Don't be kind to me._ _  
Honey don't feed me - I will come back._

 

Sleep evaded him the rest of the night, unrest driving him out of the house and into one of the many cars at his disposal. He drove for a long time, staying away from the crew for as long as possible, ignoring worried texts and calls that only made him angry and confused. He ended up throwing his phone into the trunk harshly, hoping it would break- it didn't.

He drove to the top of some random mountain whose name he didn't care to remember and sat on the hood of his car, watching the city with dull eyes as the sun set. He was tired and his eyes hurt after a day of straight driving aimlessly. For once letting traffic dictate where he went while his mind strayed elsewhere. He didn't sleep that night either.

Ryan found himself sitting outside the pent house in the afternoon of the next day, car idling in front of the garage door for a handful of minutes before he sluggishly tapped his key code into the lock pad beside the driveway. The door opened quietly and Ryan parked the car inside, sitting with his hands gripping the steering wheel before sighing and exiting the vehicle.

It was quiet upstairs, Mario Kart could be heard from the TV but no one was talking. When Ryan shambled into the living room though, the Lads all did a double take- which would have been humorous if Ryan wasn't dead tired in more ways than one.

“Ryan!” Gavin shouted, his character driving right off the road as the lanky man stood on the couch and clumsily tried to jump over the back. Michael and Ray didn't even stop to make fun of him when he caught his foot and face planted into the carpet with a shriek, the other two making a bee line for Ryan with worried expressions.

“Hey man where'd you go!?” Ray admonished while Michael prodded at him like he was checking for wounds.

“Yeah we were worried, you bloody lunatic!” Gavin yelped as he stumbled over to join the interrogation. “You just up and left and Jack said you had been in a bad way the night before.” All three of the younger crew members were staring up at him with expectant and worried looks. Ryan blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from his mind and answer them.

“Why do you care?” Was all he managed to say, his voice sounding so broken and weak that confusion and alarm spread across the younger three. “Why do you care about me?” Ryan asked again, almost pleading. He really despised how his voice sounded and how it felt like he was about to cry. _What had these fools done to him?_

“What are you talking about?” Ray demanded, eyebrows smashed together and a deep frown on his face.

“Ryan you're our friend, of fucking course we were worried about you.” Michael said, his expression nearly the same as Ray's. They crowded closer when Ryan swayed a little in place, exhaustion taking it's toll on his body and making his knees weak. But the former hit man staggered back a couple steps, irrational fury building in his chest at just how fucking upset the others were. _**What had they done to him!?** _

“I said, why do you care!?” He spat harshly, making the lads flinch back in surprise. “Why do you fucking care about someone like me?” Ryan snarled again, stumbling back one shaky step at a time until his back collided with a wall. He sank down and put his hands on his face, feeling the most vulnerable and angry and bewildered and _sad_ he could ever remember being in his entire life. Things had been so simple when it was just him, but now that he'd met this group he didn't know who he was anymore- because he certainly wasn't The Vagabond, at least not the same Vagabond anyway.

Somewhere in those years of isolation Ryan had managed to convince himself that what everyone said was true, he was a monster. A killer, insane, a cold blooded man with no soul. He couldn't recall the time when those words had hurt, even just a little, he'd spent too much time taking those barbed titles and building himself a name from them. He made their fear into a crown and wore it proudly, convinced himself he was an unlovable monster- someone incapable of loving or being loved. That was all well and good until the Fake AH Crew so effortlessly proved him wrong and turned his once black and white world into a mess of gray- just like they were doing right now.

Distantly he felt arms haul him to his feet, numbly heard- but didn't listen to- the words being spoken around him. He was lead to something soft, Ryan was too tired to bother with figuring out if it was the couch or a bed, but it didn't matter either way because once he was no longer in a vertical position his body jumped at the chance for sleep and he blacked out.

 _It can't be unlearned_  
_I've known the warmth of your doorways_  
_Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you_  
_Oh please, give me mercy no more!_ _  
It's a kindness you can't afford!_

 

Ryan woke gradually, the sound slowly coming to clarity and vision swimming the first time he tried to open his eyes. He could hear the rest of the crew talking around him, undertoned by the clack of joysticks moving furiously as someone played on the Xbox. Moving one arm to cover his eyes from the light filtering in past the half-closed blinds was all it took to gain the attention of everyone in the room.

“Is he awake?” He heard Ray question quietly from somewhere near his feet- so he was on the couch then. Ryan blinked the sleep out of his eyes in the safety of the cover provided by his arm, listening as whatever was happening on the TV paused and people shuffled closer.

“Ryan? Hey, Rye-Bread, you awake buddy?” Geoff asked, sounding more like he thought he was talking to a sick puppy rather than a capable killer and thief. Ryan opened his eyes and moved his arm, finding his head resting against Michael's hip on one end of the couch and his feet in Ray's lap on the other. Geoff and Jack leaned over the back while Gavin was perched on the arm next to Michael.

“Yeah.” He managed to croak, still trying to process what was happening through his sleep-addled brain.

“Good. We need to talk about what happened yesterday.” Geoff's words had Ryan snapping to full awareness, his face palling as terror flooded his being. Ryan Haywood hadn't be properly scared of _anything_ for at least ten years, the feeling now that he was so unaccustomed to it was all consuming. The thought of being left behind terrified him no small amount, he couldn't lie to himself anymore- he'd grown desperately attached to the only people to show him anything but fear or hate in the last good portion of his life. Now that he'd gotten a taste of what it was like to be cared for Ryan really didn't think he could go back to living alone. In the few months that he'd been with the Fake AH Crew, they had managed to worm their way into his heart without his knowledge.

“Woah woah! Dude calm down!” Ryan hadn't realized he was hyperventilating until Geoff was leaning over to put a hand on his shoulder, Jack quickly spinning on her heel to get some water, and the three lads seeming to inch closer as they silently fretted.

“Jesus dude you gotta let us know what's going on.” Michael mumbled, helping Ryan sit up properly. Jack made her way to the front of the couch and handed him a glass, which Ryan gladly drank all in one go. Setting the glass down on the coffee table more heavily than he meant to, Ryan focused on evening out his breathing.

He told them where he'd been the last two days and what had been slowly eating away at his mind, the thoughts that had caused his outburst. Ryan made sure to tell them everything, his hands shook the whole time and he couldn't manage to hold eye contact for more than a second or two. _God he felt so broken and miserable._

The crew listened. They didn't shove him away, they didn't call him a monster, they didn't bring up the shaking or the tears. They simply listened. And when Ryan had told them all there was to tell, they started in on it too. Everyone traded stories and insecurities, they all unloaded everything right then and there.

“Looks like we're all a bunch of broken fuck ups, huh boys?” Michael stated, his question not really a question. He said it like a joke, like this one piece of information could tear down the world, and it had the intended effect- everyone laughed. It started out with a disbelieving snort from Gavin which grew into a gurgle that made Ray huff and Michael chuckle, and then Gavin nearly fell off the couch and Geoff was howling which of course made the rest of them laugh too.

“You guys are a bunch of crazy motherfuckers!” Geoff wheezed through his laughter, slapping Ryan on the shoulder and giving Gavin a shove to try and knock him off the arm again, “I guess if we're gonna be crazy and broken at least we can do it together eh? Crew's gotta stick together!”

“Maybe between all of us we can make one whole person.” Jack murmured with a smirk, Ray scoffed with a sarcastic roll of his eyes saying in response, “Ya might be a little optimistic there Jack.”

Ryan's anxiety eased considerably from that point on and he was able to keep up his usual sarcastic banter and witty commentary, the whole crew piling into the space around the couch to play games and watch movies for the rest of the day.

It was only when everyone was asleep in a clumsy pile of blankets and limbs, the room quiet enough to think again, that Ryan noted he'd never felt more at home than he did right in that moment with his crew.

 

 _I want you baby tonight, as sure as you're born_  
_You'll hear me howling outside your door._  
_Don't you hear me howling babe?_  
_Won't you hear me howling babe?_  
_Don't you hear me howling babe?_ _  
Once you here me howling, once you hear me howling, once you hear me howling babe!_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy! So things may have gotten a little ooc at the end there but gimme a break, Ryan was having a bit of a melt down [shrugs]. So yeah I hope you guys like this as much as I do, I should probably edit it but I'm tired and just... done. Hmm yeah I'm gonna call it good!


End file.
